


In the Darkness of Your Soul

by ZammyShad



Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: 5.2 Spoilers, Ardbert is mentioned because Z'ahzi loves him and is heavily conflicted, Frottage, M/M, Moral Dilemmas, Mutual Masturbation, Semi-violent
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-27
Updated: 2020-07-27
Packaged: 2021-03-06 06:35:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,971
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25538887
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ZammyShad/pseuds/ZammyShad
Summary: These are the games they play, aimed at the heart and what could have been.What has been lost.He is not their fourteenth. Elidibus is not his Ardbert.
Relationships: Background Ardbert/Warrior of Light, Elidibus/Warrior of Light (Final Fantasy XIV), Minor or Background Relationship(s)
Comments: 5
Kudos: 25





	In the Darkness of Your Soul

A hand wraps itself around the thin, pale throat, grip sure even as the eyes behind the mask gleam with something yet unknown. They look up at Z’ahzi with lashes that barely poke through the slits, their color light, fragile looking. But are they? No, he thinks, fingers squeezing against the sides of the other’s neck. There is nothing fragile about _Elidibus._

Not before, when the world was simple and whole, and not now, when visage flickers from a man of robes and masks to brown hair and blue eyes, Ardbert’s smile laced with an intent the Hyur himself never once had.

These are the games they play, aimed at the heart and what could have been.

What has been lost.

He is not their fourteenth. Elidibus is not his Ardbert.

His grip doesn’t falter. Z’ahzi sneers.

Elidibus’ head tilts back in pseudo-submission, the short crop of his hair barely touching the wall behind him. Those eyes, blue and gem-like, hide themselves behind hooded lids, the sliver of color left darkened to something deep, like the ocean at night. Z’ahzi wants to be angry, searching somewhere inside of him to find the fire of indignation at the Ascian’s disguise. Yet all he finds is the low simmering heat that coils in his stomach, Elidibus’ lips turning up into a smirk as if he knows Z’ahzi cannot hurt him.

As if he knows Z’ahzi is starved for this.

“Will you do it, Warrior? I am at your mercy, after all.” Elidibus’ voice echoes with both his own as well as Ardbert’s, cracking on syllables and resonating throughout the room long after he’s finished talking. “Slayer of my kin, hero to all those who are ignorant of the world around them – Surely, you are not so weak as to ignore my offering.”

To _kill_ him or to _use_ him, Z’ahzi doesn’t know. He’s not sure he cares.

“Shut up,” the Miqo’te growls, lips pulled back in a twisted snarl. He moves closer, not as tall as the other in his stolen guise, chin tipping upwards so his breath ghosts across Elidibus’ jaw. He can feel it, the hot slide of his breath. He can feel it, the way Elidibus’ swallow stutters against his palm, the motion catching. “I’m done playing your games, _Ascian_.”

A chuckle, starting light and growing darker; a sunset that brings about the demons of the night. It’s rough, as if the notes had been ground out for the other’s vocal cords, glass and gravel alike rubbing against it. Z’ahzi feels the rumble against his palm, the vibration travelling across his arm and settling in his chest. His heart is pounding, the heat in his abdomen blossoming full force into a wildfire, barely tempered and kept at bay. “Are you?” Elidibus asks, the words breathy on his tongue. “This doesn’t feel like done to me, Warrior of _Light._ ”

Elidibus moves, a strong arm wrapping itself around Z’ahzi’s waist. Instinctively, the hand around the other’s throat tightens, fingers and palm squeezing together. It’s not done out of thought or care – precisely the opposite, in fact, and the hand settling on his hip reacts in kind, grip bruising in a shocking display of strength. Yet Elidibus does not throw him off, doesn’t so much as try to gain the upper hand. Instead, shoulders shake against the wall, body gone taut and strung as Z’ahzi watches with wide eyes how the other’s lips part around a sigh, grated and forced out until the sound dies right then and there, pressure against his throat too much for the noise to pass through.

The flame from earlier sparks inside him again. He breathes.

“It’s my game now.” A low warning, the Miqo’te’s ears pulled back and flat against his hair, his free arm planting itself from wrist to elbow against the wall the other now leans against. “I make the rules. I decide who lives or dies.”

Funny how that works. Becoming the very thing you’ve always hated. Becoming the monster who lays in front of your very eyes.

Before Elidibus can speak, before they begin to trade blows both know will do nothing but build the rage inside them both, Z’ahzi uses his leverage to lean closer, the hand around the other’s throat lessening if only to trail upwards. It settles atop his head, fingers finding the surprisingly soft strands of his once-lover’s hair, and tugs Elidibus the last few inches downwards so that their lips may meet.

There is nothing soft or timid about this, not like their first few kisses shared under the pretense of a lie. Their teeth mash together, the skin of Z’ahzi’s lips already split as Elidibus surges against him, hesitation given no thought. The other man is a force all of his own, the arm across Z’ahzi’s body pulling him closer, closer, closer still until heels barely touch the floor, yet he continues to push back, tongue tracing the inside of Elidibus’ mouth as if to remind him who, in fact, is in control now.

It’s messy - hot and wet and bruising. Elidibus’ free hand, the one not currently trapping Z’ahzi, cups the back of his neck, touch nearly a brand with how warm it is even beneath the leather of his gloves. It stays there a moment before greedily sinking fingers into the blonde hair of his nape, yanking forcefully at the strands and sending the Miqo’te’s head rearing back.

Their kiss breaks on a gasp from them both, teeth scraping at each other’s lips to get the last bite or nip in. Spit trails in a thine line between them, breaking off soon thereafter. Z’ahzi, for all his bravado, whines, hips hitching upwards as much as they can and body shaking at the demanding touch of Elidibus’ hands. The onslaught doesn’t stop, however, and he gives a short, stuttered _fu - ck_ as the Ascian descends on his neck. His teeth are sharp, almost otherworldly so, and break the tanned skin with little resistance. Again and again, his mouth worries bruises into his flesh, tongue hungrily laving the now-mottled skin not in an attempt to soothe the ache, but to gather the blood he’s spilled in his abandon.

Elidibus hums, hot breath dancing on spit-slicked skin.

“I would never have thought you to taste as sweet as this,” he groans, following with another long swipe of his tongue. “To be so wanton, so depraved, is a luxury we few cannot afford.”

Z’ahzi wants to laugh. Instead he breathes, “That isn’t stopping you now.”

“No,” Elidibus says, nosing at the line of bruises he had created down the column of the other’s throat. “It isn’t.”

Z’ahzi chooses to ignore whatever meaning exists behind those words.

They pant into the air around them for a moment, seemingly at an impasse. Z’ahzi wants to whine, wants to ask _please_ but knows he would sooner die than beg an Ascian for anything, let alone pleasure. Yet when beige eyes take it the flush against the other’s skin, the disheveled hair and the dark, dark eyes of a man he longs for each passing day, Z’ahzi asks himself _why not?_

He isn’t Ardbert, he reminds himself.

Elidibus takes the moment to step forward, pushing away from the wall of the Miqo’te’s chambers only to then plant the smaller man against it. Suddenly, Z’ahzi feels too small, Elidibus’ hands pressed firmly against the wall, caging him in.

His hands fall useless to the Ascian’s shoulders, stunned.

“I am not him,” Elidibus continues, peppering delicate kisses to his bruises in a falsified apology. His voice shifts then, no longer his own or an echo of two, settling on a tone the Warrior of Light has yearned for each and every night. “But I can be.”

_Ardbert._

Damn him. Damn him to hell.

“Elidibus,” Z’ahzi gasps, just to see the reaction. It’s instantaneous, the way nostrils flare and eyes open wide. The shocked and feral nature so blatant on his face has Z’ahzi doing it again, this time planting his shoulders against the wall and rolling hips upwards, hands finding themselves tangled in the fur of the other’s armor. “ _Elidibus_.”

The Ascian growls, hands grasping hips in a brutal grip. “Say it again.”

Oh. _Oh._

“Elidibu _-u-u-s_ ,” Z’ahzi whines it on an empty breath, lungs straining and chest pounding. He’s not sure what game he’s playing, anymore, not sure if either of them has any idea. This is dangerous; a game of cat and mouse suddenly turned into something more, something both are unwilling to name. Z’ahzi was supposed to be the victor here, Z’ahzi was supposed to be the one to put Elidibus in his place, to call out his antics and have him on his knees.

Instead, they play this back and forth, giving and taking and offering no upper hand, no lead.

 _Equals,_ Z’ahzi thinks.

There is no checkmate in this game of chess.

They’ve both won.

They’ve both _lost._

Elidibus’ hips roll into his own and Z’ahzi sees stars, eyes closing as a powerful wave of want surges through his blood. He feels too warm even under the light shirt he wears, sweat clinging to his brow and hair plastering itself there, too. He’s a mess, but Elidibus isn’t much better, his own skin flushed a darker pink bordering on red, sweat beading from his temples and sliding down into his collar, lips bruised into a beautiful crimson.

“Again,” Elidibus starts, pulling Z’ahzi’s hips up and closer, the Miqo’te’s weight now solely held by his shoulders and Ardbert’s – _Elidibus’_ – strength. “Let your precious scions hear you beg for your enemy.”

Z’ahzi’s cock aches in his pants, the fabric tight against and suffocating. “Elidibus - ”

“Again.”

“Elidibus.”

“ _Again_.”

“ _Elidibus!”_

The Ascian nearly rips his hand away from Z’ahzi’s hip, balancing his weight in his left as the right pulls at his thigh, hooking it upwards and around his waist. The Miqo’te gets the hint, wrapping his leg tight around him, tail following suit for added leverage. A pleased rumble makes itself known, stark against the harsh pants that surround them. Z’ahzi wants to speak, to say anything else besides the other’s name, but tongue sticks to the bottom of his mouth, spit thick and swallows heavy.

They stay like that for a time, rutting against each other as heat builds and the world falls into the background. Z’ahzi can feel Elidibus’ cock hard against his own, every press of their bodies emphasising the rising need between them. Yet neither seem to be willing to do anything but this, revealing in each other and the friction of their bodies.

Someone has to break. 

“Touch me,” Z’ahzi breathes, squirming as sole heel slips against the floor. “Touch me, please.”

No sooner is the last word out of his mouth does Elidibus’ right hand move from his thigh to his crotch, touch heavy and impatient as he all but yanks him free from his pants, not even sparing the decency to pull them down. Yet annoyance is forgotten as Elidibus’ hand wraps around the base of his cock, Z’ahzi jolting against the wall and slamming his head into it. _Yes_ , he thinks, mouth wide as he moans out a shaky half-word of the other’s name. _Thank you._

His hand is firm and strong, nothing timid to its nature. Grip is tight against his sensitive skin, thumb swiping at head with every stroke upwards. It’s on the third does Elidibus stray, letting the pad of his thumb play at the frenulum. Z’ahzi chokes, chest stuttering as the air is forced from his lungs in shock. He flounders, grip on both the other’s neck as well as his waist now so tight, his body is curled away from the wall. Eyes screw themselves shut even tighter, spots dancing behind their lids and for a second the Miqo’te tastes blood.

It doesn’t stop the wave of _ah, ah, ah_ that falls from him.

“Eli,” he cries, throat raw and dry. The stimulation is so much, too much, and the other continues to play with his cock seemingly unphased by the abandon the Warrior of Light displays. “Make me come. Please make me come. I can’t take it. Please. Ple- _e-e_ - _ah,_ ”

Another gasp, another stroke that has leather gloves spreading pre across heated flesh. There’s no response this time, either, the only notion that Elidibus even heard him being the sudden quickness to his pace, the sharp twist of his wrist and the faster, less even puffs of air decorating the side of Z’ahzi’s face.

 _Please, please, please_ , he thinks, hands clawing at the nape of the Ascian’s neck. _I’m so close._

“Not without me,” he says, finally, pausing in his actions. The sudden stillness brings a sharply pitched whine from deep within the Miqo’te’s chest; a wounded sound from a stubborn, selfish animal. His ears fall to the sides in disappointment, lips pouting in a facsimile of a sulk. Elidibus kisses him, then. Kisses him to eat away at the sorrow laced there, to replace that indignation with a lax jaw and slick lips, tongue easing inside as he once again leans the other against the wall, curling over him and letting Z’ahzi’s leg settle on the floor once more.

Elidibus doesn’t stop. He takes and he takes and _he takes_ until the Miqo’te’s tail unwinds from his thigh, until his hands fall from neck only to cup his jaw; until cock jumps in his hand and precome dribbles steadily onto their clothes; until hunger turns to greed for the more intimate, tongues meeting and sliding against each other in something more akin to a lover’s embrace.

They are both illusionists, it seems.

Left hand, the one that had previously been holding the Miqo’te up, now goes to his own belt, stripping himself of it as easily as if he had done it a thousand times. Elidibus wastes no time in his actions, always succinct and sure. Z’ahzi peaks his eyes open at the sound of armor clinking together, their kiss finally breaking as Elidibus reaches into his own pants, a warm sigh fluttering against Z’ahzi’s sweat-laced skin as the Ascian frees himself, too, cock heavy and dark with blood. He can’t help but stare, gaze lidded flush high on his cheeks as he slides his hand down, down, _down_. Across his jaw, his neck, his chest, and even further still.

When he wraps it around the other’s cock, Elidibus presses their foreheads together, his eyes now shut.

They touch each other like that, stroking together and squeezing whenever the other does something _right._ It’s learning each other without needing to, something in both of them telling them all they need to know. Elidibus places his hand against the wall again, leaning heavily into Z’ahzi as he once again speeds up, battling the other’s hand away with a fierce push, taking them both into his grip together and groaning low in his throat, animalistic.

Z’ahzi succumbs to it, head thrashing away from the Ascian and hands now bracing himself, gripping tight enough for nails to pierce through the fabric and fur at the other’s shoulders, ripping it without care.

“You,” Elidibus starts, hand moving faster and faster, the slick sounds of their cocks stroked together loud in the otherwise silence. “Will always be our downfall.”  
  
That’s when he comes, breath catching and body taut. He shakes, ears flattening as far as they can as hips roll in desperate half-moves, stuttering as if he’s too consumed with the thought of what’s next he can’t _possibly_ finish the one that came before. His cock pulses as he finishes, once, twice, _three times_ , cum splattering against his chest, staining his shirt. The muscles in his thighs spasm, an ache in his hips and lower back feeding into this loop of pleasure that feels as if it will never stop. It’s drawn out, forcing Z’ahzi to be spread thin and coherence diminished. He barely registers his own voice, pitched and broken as it cracks around the same word over and over again. “ _Eli, Eli, Eli_.”

It’s a weakness of the other, he knows. He shouldn’t use it.

He does, anyway. 

They’re both bastards, in the end.

Elidibus finishes on a thick gasp, grip around them both bordering on painful. Z’ahzi’s oversensitive cock feels raw like that, rutted against and stroked as if he were nothing more than a toy, but he doesn’t tell him to stop. In fact, he revels in the semi-pain, vision white around the edges as Elidibus huffs out a handful of forceful, shaken moans, cum mingling with the mess on Z’ahzi’s shirt and the leather of his own glove.

Sweaty, exhausted, Z’ahzi pulls at the other’s neck for one last kiss, lazy and languid. It’s short and half-lived, the corners of their mouths pressed together for only a moment before bodies break away. Z’ahzi slumps against the wall, Elidibus taking a half-step back. 

“This won’t end,” Elidibus breathes, ragged. “Without a victor.”  
  
_I know,_ Z’ahzi thinks.

_I would do the same as you, if given the choice._

“Victory doesn’t guarantee an end,” the Miqo’te slurs, vying for an understanding. “There are others at play than just the two of us.”  
  
Brows fall, as if Elidibus were feeling sorrow. As if he were feeling _regret_. “I’m afraid not.”

There it is, the first volley of war. Z’ahzi feels his stomach churn.

Their lives will always be a game; a push and pull without a clear winner. Hydaelyn and Zodiark are the ones that are at fault, not he or Elidibus. It stems further than that, further than either of them truly knows.

They are both pawns on opposing sides, not the kings they once thought they were.

“Rest well, Warrior of Light. You still have a part to play.”

 _I suppose I do,_ Z’ahzi thinks. _And so do you._

**Author's Note:**

> heeee HOOO here you go. this all happened because of a certain ascian in a certain 5.3 trailer and the realisation that my oc, z'ahzi, is just the other side of the elidibus coin. they really be out here like that, huh.
> 
> follow me on twitter @valistheas for more fics, xiv talk, etc.
> 
> and if you feel like supporting me, you can do so at my tip-jar that can be found on my twitter!
> 
> and, as always, kudos and comments are appreciated! thank you for reading ;-;


End file.
